


Mirrored

by Anonymous



Series: Mirrored [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Amnesia, Angst, Bad Parenting, Carlos probably isn't human, Cecil is a god, Deals With The Devil, Fate, Gen, Huntokar? What’s that?, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kevin is a God, Kevin needs a hug, M/M, Multi, Other, Pain, Sacrifice, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-04-21 08:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dear reader, I must ask you to throw away everything you know about Night Vale and Desert Bluffs. The story I am about to tell you is not about that reality. This story is about a world where a god sacrificed himself for his older brother. A world where Night Valians cannot feel sorrow and Desert Bluffians cannot feel joy. Where Strexcorp doesn’t exist but the Smiling God does.Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.Welcome to XXXX XXXX.
Relationships: Carlos & Cecil Palmer, Carlos & Kevin (Welcome to Night Vale), Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Kevin & Cecil Palmer, Kevin & The Smiling God, Kevin/Smiling God
Series: Mirrored [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587610
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Origin

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is basically all world building and is written in a slightly different style. 
> 
> (If you don't like how I wrote this chapter blame _The Road_ by Cormac McCarthy.)

A long time ago, before the invention of the radio, there was a family of three who ruled the desert. There was a mother, a son, and a <s>son</s>replacement. 

They were gods, and they all loved the desert. 

The desert did not love all of them. 

The desert did not love the <s>son</s>replacement. 

\----------

The mother's name was the vibration of flint rocks endlessly striking together. If a human asked, her name was Diane. 

Her hair was made of yellow dwarf stars, and her skin was made of unshed tears. She was the most beautiful and horrifying thing in the universe.

She was born of the Mud Womb long before (or perhaps long after) her fellow gods. 

When the mother stepped into the world, there was nothing but featureless sand. She did not like this desolation. She was terribly bored. So the mother created things, horrible things that should never be conceived. She released these monsters on to the world, and she _loved_ them. 

\----------

The mother loved the desert, and it loved her in turn. Born from their love was a beautiful son. He was born with an amused twinkle in his eyes and infinite kindness. The first thing the son saw was a beautiful face glowing with love and acceptance.

The son was not too short or tall, not fat or too thin. His hair was a soft lilac, and his voice was music. Physically, he was perfect in all ways. 

Out of love and joy, he sculpted children whose children wore soft meat hats and traveled the world. When the son showed his mother these children, she smiled kindly and blessed them. She was always pleased with the things he made.

His smiles were few and far between, but when they appeared, every citizen of their desert kingdom would rejoice.

They were happy.

\----------

Years later, the mother met a fortuneteller blessed by a true god. The fortuneteller foresaw the son's fall to a dark almighty diety and warned the mother of her son's destiny. 

_The world will crack, and reality will crumble.  
The citizens of Night Vale will twist and perish.  
The son of the desert will look for a cure.  
The god of false smiles will offer him a deal.  
"Give me your pain and the sorrow of your children.  
In exchange, the others shall be blessed,  
With life and all other emotions."_

Devastated, the mother created the <s>son</s>replacement. Unlike its older brother, the new child was not created from love. No, it was created from a foolish hatred of destiny, the blood of the mother, and a broken piece of the desert. It was born with a smile it did not feel, and a bone-deep pain it would never not experience. The first thing it saw was a <s>beautiful</s>horrifying face twisted in disgust and anger.

The replacement was not short or tall, not fat or thin. Its hair was a pale yellow, and its eyes understood the truth. Physically, it was the shadow of perfection in all ways. 

Out of fear and respect, it sculpted children whose children wore soft meat hats but never left the kingdom's boundaries. When the replacement showed its creator these children, she smirked and cursed them. She was the one who told him what to make.

His smile was permanent and frightening, and every citizen of their desert kingdom hated it.

\----------

When the replacement sparked to life, the mother took it, dragged it across the desert plain. She showed it the son and all his goodness. She told it what it was made for. She dictated how it would act. 

The replacement saw its brother and then looked back at itself. It understood that the son was better, stronger, kinder than it was. It accepted the purpose the mother gave it. Maybe it would be of some use to the son.

\----------

What the mother did not remember in her panic, was destiny's permanence on deities. Gods, unlike humans, did not get a say in their fate. So what was foretold would come to pass as was written. The mother was always going to create another child. That second son was destined to sacrifice himself for the first. The only thing she changed was the pain her new creation would endure. Instead of a painless and happy childhood, the replacement was condemned to an entire life full of pain.

The mother should have checked to see which god the fortuneteller served. 

The ever-smiling god fed on pain, after all, and a soul marinated for all its life was much tastier.

\----------

The desert hated the replacement. The mother, in her fury and distress, did not ask the desert before she took a piece of him. The desert was angry but still loved her. So, his targetless rage latched on to the next best thing. The thing his lover made but did not love. 

The desert made his displeasure clear to the replacement. When the earth deity whispered sweet promises to the mother and son, it heard nothing. If the replacement walked across the sand, huge pits and lethal monsters would appear. Every time it slept at night, its clothes and bedding would be swallowed by the earth. 

\----------

When the son first saw his <s>brother</s>replacement, he was happy to have a new friend to play with and talk to. The new child was ecstatic to meet someone who did not hate him. They could have been friends. Seeing this, the mother whispered cruel falsehoods, turning the two against one another. The older soon became tired of the younger's eerie smile, and sullen mien. The replacement was unhappy that its possible friend started to resent it, but it also knew its duty. It didn't want the son to be sad when it eventually died. 

\----------

When his children were afraid, the son would whisper softly into their ears and gently touch their souls. His voice helped them understand the frightening world in a way they could handle. The son taught them how to survive in the unkind desert, and they loved him. Their love warmed the son's soul and strengthened his power.

When its children were frightened, the replacement would desperately beg them to smile and cry silent tears. Its words taught them to fear their horrifying reality. It told them to grin through the pain because that was all it knew how to do. In the quiet depths of their hearts, the children hated the replacement. Their hatred burned the edges of its soul and weakened its power. 

\----------

The son's name was painted in beautiful colors across the endless stars. The son's name was Cecil because he was always destined to be _blind_. Fate wrote that the son would be unable to see the truth, and so it was. So it always would have been. 

Diane was pleased and hoped that her son would be blind to the evils of the world. She bestowed the name with a smile and a kiss on the forehead.

The replacement's name _was_ depicted by a twisting nebula far from earth. Its name spoke of its purpose. The universe knew what the replacement was and named it accordingly. Its name was Zebah.

Diane was not pleased. So she told the replacement a different name, a mocking name. She called it Kevin. Laughing at its secret wish to be _handsome_. 

(Truth be told, she didn't want to give him a name at all. The title gave the replacement personhood, but Cecil asked what its name was. So she gave it a name, and it became a he.)

\----------

The children of the son and the replacement created a town, and for thousands of years, they lived in peace. 

\----------

Then, the world ended. 

(Quietly in some places/universes, loudly in others but completely in all.) 

\----------

A moment later, it restarted like an electrified heart. Doing the same job but irrevocably changed.

\----------

Cecil died. 

But then he was reborn as a Voice, fulfilling the same role as before, but different now. Not lesser, because gods simply couldn’t turn human. He just couldn't remember all the things that once made him so powerful.

The people always listened to him because he loved them and they loved him.

\----------

Kevin did not die. 

Instead, he was imprisoned. 

As was foretold, Kevin met a dark god during the end of everything. The malevolent deity offered him a deal, the same one he always did and always would. 

(As Kevin stood on a cliff looking down at <s>his</s>their city, he could see <s>his</s>their beloved people dying in agony. The Smiling God appeared before him and spoke.

"I can save them if you wish. Give me your pain and the sorrow of your children. In exchange, the others shall be blessed with life and all other emotions. Diane has already taught you how to be one of my disciples. Accept, and all will be well again."

Kevin heard the screams of the people and the grieving wails of his brother. Resigned, he kneeled and accepted.

From then on, Kevin was trapped in a single, windowless room for every day of the year except one. Every year, on the anniversary of the world's end, he would be allowed outside to collect the accumulated unexplainable grief of Desert Bluffs.)

Kevin could still speak to his people but could not explain to them. The Desert Bluffs Community Radio station broadcasting booths were always empty, and interns gave memos and coffee to gaping portals.

The people listened to him because of visceral fear of what would happen if they stopped.

\---------

The town in the middle of the desert split in two and became two towns, Night Vale and Desert Bluffs. 

Night Vale could no longer feel sorrow. Desert Bluffs could no longer feel joy.

No one could remember a time when it wasn't this way.


	2. 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different take on 19B- The Sandstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything from the actual podcast is not mine. I only wrote about half of this. 
> 
> Citation:  
“19B-The Sandstorm.” Welcome to Night Vale, season Year 1, episode 19, 15 Mar. 2013.

There was something awful about the sky and its duality. It crashed into the horizon and stretched into infinity. The sky was the atmosphere, and the atmosphere was the sky, but they were not the same. The atmosphere held the warmth of the sun and the earth’s precious air close. It reflected harmful beams from the destructive day-star and burned space junk into smithereens. It protected the world but no one could see it. No one could love it. They didn’t know it existed.

Everyone could see the sky, in all its light refracted and star-strewn glory. The sky inspired paintings, photos, paragraphs, and poems. It lit smiles on faces and fanciful dreams. The sky was a mood-setter, a dependable background in the chaos of life. It watched over the world and everyone could see it. Everyone knew the sky and loved it. 

The atmosphere knew the sky and loved it, but the sky would never know the atmosphere. Would never see its invisible companion protecting it from destruction. 

\----------

Kevin’s room was 10’x10’x10’, a perfect cube with no doors or windows. It had a bed, raised three feet from the blood-covered floor, and a single metal desk and chair set welded to the ground. The walls and ceiling were all straight and flat, but the floor sloped towards the center. It directed blood towards the drain in the center of the room.

\----------

After taking a deep breath, Kevin pasted on a smile no one could see, positioned his broken midnight wings, tried not to scream, and began the daily broadcast.

_The future is what you make of it! Just know that your supplies are limited.  
Welcome to Desert Bluffs.  
Good afternoon, Desert Bluffs! This is Kevin, bringing you all your news and good spirits for another gorgeous day in the Bluffs.  
But before we get too comfortable, there is some news about that gorgeous day. We’re getting word that a sandstorm is moving in toward us. Congregation Leaders are telling us that it is a **doozy** and that we should all stay indoors.  
Nothing to worry about, just stay out of the way. It will pass. As with life, and as will all things, it will pass. The sun will be upon us again, and it will be like two mornings in a day. Yes! A two-morning day! A rebirth. A reawakening. What do you think of that, Desert Bluffs?  
Intern Vanessa did point out that sandstorms can do a lot of damage to cars, and if you have access to a garage, you should bring your car in.  
Also get those pets inside, Desert Bluffs! We don’t want all those cute little puppies and spiders and baby raccoons getting lost out in the sandy breeze. Bring those loved ones inside.  
A little factoid for you: Ted, our staff weatherman, says that no one really knows what causes sandstorms. God, he thinks. Or maybe they’re just big gusts of wind that carry big things of sand.  
How much sand do you think there is in the world? There’s got to be a lot. A **lot** of sand. Who even counts it all? Wow! Big questions today, Desert Bluffs. Big questions.  
So keep your radios tuned in here, as we’ll bring you all the latest reports from today’s sandstorm and how you can make up for all this lost time. Hiding from nature is taking away a lot of productivity, Desert Bluffs, but I’m sure you’ll find time to get done what needs to get done. You won’t disappoint your town – your home. I believe in you. So mark down the time you spend cowering from the weather, okay? And we’ll work that time back into your schedule. Great!_

If Kevin was forthright with himself and his people, he would address the ineffectiveness of their desperate productivity. He would tell them not to fret, that everything would be fine and it didn’t matter if they completed their work hours. But he couldn’t. 

If Kevin acknowledged this on the air, it would be perilous for everyone. Kevin would spend the night with the Smiling God and the people would be re-educated. 

Productivity served a vital purpose in Desert Bluffs. It diverted their attention from the blood that stained the dunes a brownish crimson, their unexplainable and constant sorrow and the endless deaths of their loved ones. [1] [1]

_  
And listen! Get all that time in before the weekend, because this Saturday, it’s baseball season again! Desert Bluffs has just a great team this year. New manager Samantha Figgins is not only the first manager to get hired straight out of seminary school, but she also brings a powerful ethos of teamwork, fun, and responsibility.  
Last year’s Sunbeams team had some excellent games, but they spent a lot of time just sitting on the bench with nothing to do because only one person gets to bat at a time. This season, Figgins plans to keep her boys active with holy orders and prep for the weekly mandatory donation drive.  
Baseball is not an individual sport. They’re all in it together. As Figgins says, “It’s not about winning and losing or who you’re playing. It’s about building the strongest possible team brand.”  
The Sunbeams also welcome the same owner they have always had since the beginning of time:  
The Joyous Congregation.  
Look around you: See the Congregation.  
Look inside you: See your Joy.  
Go to sleep: See your God.  
Believe in a Smiling God: You must believe in the Smiling God.  
It is EVERYTHING.  
Let’s have a peek at traffic!_

The traffic report fell off of the radio host’s tongue as he struggled not to scream. New blood made trails over old, but the quiet sound of liquid hitting the floor didn’t reach the mic.

_Oh! I’m getting one report that there are several stalled cars in the northbound lanes of Route 800, near Exit 66. Police are on the scene dealing with fistfights in the middle of the road!  
Now, I can’t imagine why, in a beautiful town with so many kinds of yogurt stores and pony-petting stations, anyone would want to fight his neighbor. So hopefully that gets cleared up soon with a song and a hug.  
I wanna thank all you listeners for your calls and emails. The sandstorm came to town more quickly than expected. Lawrence Lavine, out in the edge of town development, called in to say that the sand was like sand, but slightly different, that if you touched it, you could feel it…twice. Lawrence said took a scoop of sand into his soft right hand and it was if he had **two** right hands. He then held the sand with both soft palms and felt **four** hands, like one of those false gods, or radioactive four-armed deer that seem to be attracted to the new church.  
Lawrence said he was making a sand angel, and then he saw himself. He said he just walked right up to himself and started making two sand angels. He said that there were two of him, just making sand angels and that he would happily double his sand angel production today. He hung up the phone laughing like Vanessa had never heard him laugh.  
Well, thank you, Lawrence. That was a useful report. Intern Vanessa also tells me she’s keeping an eye on Facebook to see if our other neighbors have news of the storm. I see Grandma Josephine posted a photo of a lovely bouquet of white lilies outside her door. Very pretty! Oh, and look at this video, Vanessa! This cat just jumps in and out of boxes! That is adorable! Vanessa, can you tweet that to me?  
Let’s have a look at financial news._

Kevin waited as the power that used him as a microphone took control and moved his lips to speak.

_This has been financial news.  
This just in, Desert Bluffs: Mayor Pablo Mitchell has declared today Sandstorm Day. This massive sandstorm has already damaged several apartments and malls in the northwest part of town, and it seems to be on course for even more costly wreckage, so Mayor Mitchell announced that we can all take today off of work. Today is a citywide holiday!  
A second announcement, coming from a man that looked and dressed like the mayor, said that we can make up some of our lost hours by teaming up with our doubles! The two joined together for an inspirational call to work together with these magical doppelgangers.  
Is this true, Desert Bluffs? If so, what a blessed and wonderful event, to bring us doubles of ourselves! I am stuck inside – doing a job I very much love, of course – but if I were you, I would run outside into the sandy afternoon air and try to meet your other. How exciting!  
So make friends with your mirrored friend, Desert Bluffs! Think of what we could accomplish if there were two of all of us!_

“Mother did accomplish a lot with two of her favorite child.” Kevin thought, bitter but resigned.

_Let’s go to an important message from our parent organization.  
Got something to say? Need to say it? Unfulfilled? Never made sense of what you are, who you were, who you will be?  
Unfulfilled?  
Do you forget sometimes about your own skin, your own hair, or other people’s hair and skin? Can you make more hair, more skin? Do you**need more hair** and/or skin?  
Unfulfilled?  
Are you satisfied with it all? Do you see it all? What room are you in? What room do you **want** to be in? How big is your room?  
Unfulfilled?  
Have you ever said a thing inside your brain, and then sent it to your hand to move a pencil to write it into symbols onto a paper, which used to be a tree, and then used your eyes to translate those symbols back into the thing you just said inches away in your brain, and then re-said it with your mouth into an ear? Whose ear was it?  
Unfulfilled? _ (Kevin tried not to scream.)_  
Ever eaten things that made you think differently? Breathed things?  
Unfulfilled?  
Feel things? Felt things?  
We are you. The Joyous Congregation.  
Welcome back! Listeners, I have some good news.  
Vanessa handed me a printout of an email from one of our listeners. Well, I presume he’s a listener. I’ve never heard of him. He claims to live in Night Vale. I had no idea those folks down in Night Vale could get our tiny little radio station, Vanessa. How wonderful!  
You know, in all my years, I have never gone to Night Vale! I bet it’s beautiful. Really, this whole desert is beautiful. I mean, when it comes right down to it, why would you ever leave Desert Bluffs? How can it get better, really? I wouldn’t risk it.  
So Steve writes, “This sandstorm is clearly a cover-up. I believe this was a government-created project. Our government has long been participating in cloud-seeding experiments, and–”  
Let me stop you right there, Steve Carlsberg!  
You have hit the nail on the head. Say no more! The government is indeed covering up their involvement –or should I say, lack of involvement in this sandstorm.  
Honestly, I don’t think the government even knows how to orchestrate a project of this magnitude, and of this quality. You need a well-run religious organization like, say, the Congregation, that has not only the faculties and materials to execute a massive geologic and psychedelic storm but to do so economically, and without human sacrifices.  
Why, without the Joyous Congregation, we wouldn’t have parochial schools, or regulated behaviors, or desperate praying, or helpful pandemics, or mandatory mind-reading!  
Thank you for your email, Steve. What a great guy!  
And with that, listeners, I must go. Do not worry I will return but for now, I must leave you. _

An on-air sign blinked off in Kevin’s room, another flipped on in the Desert Bluffs Community Radio Station. On a blood-soaked chair in an unknown location, Kevin leaned his head backward and started to meditate.

\----------

*Hello? Hello? Night Vale? What is this studio? What is this damnable studio?  
Night Vale? I do not know if you can hear me. This is Cecil, and I do not know where I am. It is clearly a radio studio, but the walls are covered in blood, and instead of dials and buttons on the soundboard, there is just animal viscera, glistening under the green LED lights. I hope this microphone works. Am I in hell?  
Dana? Dana, can you hear me?  
Listeners, if you can hear the sound of my voice, please contact the Sheriff’s Secret Police. There is so much blood, it is seeping into my shoes! There are – oh, masters of us all, no! – teeth scattered across the floor. The window into the control booth is shattered and there is a swath of skin and a fistful of long clumping hair hanging from a smiling crucifix! I do not know if this is even Night Vale.  
I know that I can hear the sandstorm raging outside. There is a low buzz and deep hum that might be my own heart ready to tear itself from my chest in horror or grief – I cannot know which.  
There is a photo, a single photo of a man framed on the wall of this studio. I think he is a man. He is wearing a tie. He is not tall or short, not thin or fat. His hair and nose are like mine, but his eyes…his eyes are a harsh yellow and his smile–  
No. It is not a smile!  
He must be wicked, this man!  
Dear Night Vale, please pray in your bloodstone circle for me and pray, too, that no one should ever have to meet this vicious wretch of a man.  
I want to be home, Night Vale! Oh, Cecil, you fool! The vortex…the vortex is still there. But here, it is white.  
Okay. Dear listeners, from this vile, vile place, I leave you to your prison, but before I go, because I am a radio professional and it is sitting right here on this blood-spattered desk, I give you the weather.  
[“Eliezer’s Waltz” performed by Disparition]*

\----------

There was something mysterious about the Desert Bluffs’s and Night Vale’s radio shows. Desert Bluffians could hear Night Vale’s program but Night Vale couldn’t hear Desert Bluffs’s. So Desert Bluffs loved Night Vale because they learned all about the town from the dulcet tones of an amnesiac god. This love eases some latent bitterness in Desert Bluff proxies. [2] But Night Vale was frightened of Desert Bluffs because deep down they understood something was wrong but they couldn’t recall what it was.

\----------  
_  
Hello there, Desert Bluffs! It is Kevin again. I told you I would be back.  
I am just happy I am alive.  
You are alive.  
We…we are alive.  
Outside, the winds are subsiding. Our doubles have left us as the sand has left us. The sun is rising again just as it is setting. Our second sunrise collides with the sunset. Let’s reflect on this.  
Let us reflect on our lives, and where we will be tomorrow. We lost our other selves, Desert Bluffs, but we gained new perspective. Tomorrow, we’ll wake again, work again, **live** again.  
We are home, all of us, together. My mouth, your ears. We have each other.  
And as always, until next time, Desert Bluffs. Until next time._

“VANESSA! I need... some... help-“ Kevin passed out before he could pull out the sickle still buried in his midriff. 

[1] Hardly anyone died correctly in Desert Bluffs. They just collapsed in the middle of their next action, screamed in agony and stopped existing as their Night Vale counterpart was torn apart painlessly. 

[2]Desert Bluffians grew up knowing that they would always take the pain of their Night Vale counterparts. Most of the younger generations called themselves proxies, and the older ones let them. It was better than "whipping boy".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Please remember- Kevin cannot die.

**Author's Note:**

> So even though I haven’t finished Eye of the Beholder, I still wrote this. This story has been yelling at me for weeks. Hopefully once the muse settles I will be able to alternate the updates for the two stories.


End file.
